Drown My Will
by Noella-Ange
Summary: This story picks up after "Memory of His Last Breath". The boys begin to find answers about Dean's return from Hell. Unfortunately, they may wish they hadn't. AU since Kripke had a different take on the situation.
1. Chapter 1

**Drown My Will**

_Disclaimer: The boys are Kripke's but the story's mine._

_A/N: This story follows _Memory of His Last Breath.

* * *

Rounding the heavy, intricately carved banister of the wide staircase, Sam tread as silently as possible down the shadow filled hallway of the abandoned Victorian. There were four doors ahead of him: one to the left, two to the right, and the final one directly ahead. After carefully checking the first two rooms, while simultaneously listening for any sounds of distress from his brother downstairs, Sam slowly entered the third room. This being the largest room yet, he walked deeper into the darkness meagerly lit by his small flashlight.

The door to the room slammed a heartbeat before Sam was thrown against the far wall and held in place by an invisible weight bearing down on his chest. He heard his brother shout his name from somewhere below, followed by quick, heavy footsteps ascending the stairs. Sam's eyes tried to adjust to the sudden and complete darkness that had surrounded him when his flashlight sputtered then died after it hit the floor.

"Sam!" Two loud thumps, followed by a grunt of pain that unmistakably came from his brother, had Dean racing up the steps two at a time. Immediately spying the one closed door, he threw his right shoulder into it. When the door didn't move, Dean stepped back, lifted a booted foot, and used the full weight of his body to kick the door. That not having the desired effect either, he resorted to pounding on the door with his fist. "Sam! Answer me!"

A muffled "Dean!" was heard from inside the room. Knowing his brother was still alive allowed Dean's heart to slow down enough to let him think through the thunderous blood pounding in his ears.

A shuffled footstep from the deepest of the room's shadows, confirmed Sam's suspicions that he was not alone. A whisper of moving cloth preceded the sudden tearing down of the drapes from one window. The heavy fabric puddled to the floor amid a cloud of dust and moonlight as his captor stepped into the light that now fell through the window nearest to Sam. A girl, no more than twenty years of age, stood before him with a smug expression on her face. Obsidian eyes studied Sam for a few quiet moments.

"You don't seem surprised to see me," Her rich alto voice filled the silence. She took another step closer to Sam. Flicking long brunette hair back over her shoulder, she laughed, "You found me awfully quick. I guess you're better hunters than I expected."

"Demons always seem to underestimate us, it's good to know you're no different." As he struggled to pull himself away from the wall, Sam listened to what sounded like Dean kicking the door, still trying to force his way into the room.

Taking yet another few steps forward, the girl suddenly lost her arrogance and gasped, "You're him! I didn't realize…I…I'm sorry…if I had known…"

Sam felt the pressure that pinned him abate as he attempted to figure out the fear he now heard coming from the demon-possessed girl. Free of her hold, he edged closer to her and surprisingly, she shrank back.

Dean picked that inopportune moment to crash through the door, startling both Sam and the demon. Before Sam had time to regain his senses or stop his brother, Dean had the girl in a choke hold from behind and had driven Ruby's knife through her side. He held her until the electric spasms had finished coursing through her, then he pulled the knife from her body and let her sink bonelessly to the floor with a soft thud.

"Sammy, you okay?" Breathing hard through his fear and worry, Dean made a visual scan of his brother, seeking any evidence of possible harm. Other than a puzzled look on his face as he stared at the recently vacated human host, Sam appeared unscathed. Dean closed his eyes for a second, willing his heart and breathing to slow now that he had seen that his brother was physically alright.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine." With distraction evident in his voice, Sam slowly walked over to the body of the girl. He kneeled down and gently cupped her face in one hand. "She knew me, or rather the demon knew me."

Raising an eyebrow, Dean regarded his brother warily. "So…that's nothing new. You sure you're okay?"

He watched as Sam stood and turned to him, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Dean, it was different this time, she was scared of me. She…she even apologized."

Dean couldn't help or hide the disbelief in his voice, "Apologized? For what? For killing that family last week?"

"No, for not realizing who I was…or am." In his frustration, Sam ran his hand through his hair. "Let's just go, we found the demon, she's gone, we're done." With that, he turned on his heal and left the room, leaving Dean staring after him nonplussed.

As Sam made his way out of the house and back to the car, he couldn't shake feeling disturbed by what he had just heard. The demon had been afraid of him, but he honestly couldn't come up with a reason why. Unfortunately, Dean killed it before he could even begin to question it.

What started out as a typical hunt has now taken a left turn. Sam had found an article in the paper a week ago detailing the gruesome murders of a family of five. Mom, Dad, and three children. They had all been mutilated beyond description. And as usual, the local police had no idea what had truly occurred. Shortly after arriving in town, the brothers had inspected the crime scene and immediately found the tell tale traces of sulfur.

A few seemingly clever deductions later, they were here, at an old Victorian house that hadn't been inhabited in twenty some-odd years. Looking back now, it was clear to see the demon had left a trail to this very location, probably knowing some hunter would stumble along the path of crumbs. The hunter's death would have been a fitting denouement to the demon's week of destruction.

Upon reaching the Impala, Sam realized the doors were locked and his brother had the keys. Leaning against the passenger side door, he breathed in the cool night air as he watched the house for signs that Dean was on his way. Guilt flushed through him as Sam realized Dean would be checking the house for any weapons they may have left behind. It was something their father had drilled into their heads from the time they each had begun hunting, and yet Sam had walked out leaving Dean to finish the job.

Inside the house, Dean did a walk through of each room until he was satisfied nothing that could be linked to them was left behind. Once more, he found himself in the upstairs room with the girl's body. Bending over to pick up the flashlight Sam must have dropped earlier, he heard a labored gasp of air. Within an instant, he kneeled beside the girl and felt for a pulse.

At his touch, her eyelashes parted to reveal slits of blue irises. Her gaze flicked around the room before finally focusing on Dean leaning over her. Another rough intake of air, barely enough to be called a breath, and then in a ragged whisper, "Wants…you."

Even though he knew he couldn't save her, he found himself applying pressure to the wound in her side, the wound he had caused. "Wants me? Who wants me?" Dean pressed down more firmly onto the knife wound when the blood continued to hemorrhage through his fingers.

She moaned low in her throat and feebly attempted to shift away from Dean's hands. "Help…him kill." The girl's eyes slid closed as her last breath was released in a sigh and her pain-rigid muscles lost all their tension. After checking her pulse one more time, Dean slowly maneuvered back away from the girl, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans, trying in vain to dispel any and all traces of the thick crimson blood.

"Sonofabitch!" He kicked himself for not checking for signs of life earlier. Instead he had let this poor girl bleed out, practically alone in some long abandoned house. He had been distracted by Sam and the innocent girl paid for Dean's mistake. Suddenly realizing how much time had passed and that Sam had been outside by the car for far too long on his own, Dean gathered his duffel bag and the flashlight and left the room.

Sam straightened as he watched his brother emerge from the house. Noticing immediately how pale Dean was, he edged around the car to meet his brother by the trunk. Dean unlocked the trunk, threw everything in, slammed the lid, and then got behind the wheel, all without saying a word. Hearing the engine turn over, Sam quickly climbed into the passenger seat.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I should have helped. I-" Sam paused. Although he had yet to shift the car into drive, Dean was gripping the wheel tight. Staring into the middle distance, he didn't appear to be listening either. Looking closer, Sam saw that his brother's hands and jeans were bloody. His heartbeat tripped as he reached out to touch his brother's right forearm to get his attention. "Dean, you okay? What happened?"

Without turning his head, Dean rolled his eyes in Sam's direction. "She was still alive." Dean continued in a flat tone, "I tried to help…it was too little, too late. But she had a parting message."

His brother's odd behavior now explained, Sam was at a loss as to what to say to counteract the deep guilt he knew Dean felt for being unable to save the girl. They had used Ruby's knife a few times before but they had never had the possessed person survive the death of the demon. It had become too easy to forget the demon and the host body were two separate entities. "What'd she say?"

Dean sighed heavily and turned to his brother with troubled eyes. "She looked right at me and said, 'Wants you.' and 'Help him kill'." After a few beats of silence, "What'd the demon say to you?"

Sam turned to gaze out the passenger window. "She had me pinned until she was close enough to get a good look at me. Then she said 'You're him, I didn't realize' and…uh, she started to say 'If I had known…', then you came in."

"Well, that can't be good." Dean shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. "Do you think she could have been one of the demons who were prepared to follow you? That would explain her fear, she just threw her supposedly soon-to-be future leader across the room. Probably figured she was on your shit list now."

Sam's eyes shifted to his brother. "If that's the case, how do _you _figure into it? Who are you supposed to help kill?"

Dean briefly met his brother's gaze, and replied in a quiet voice, "Do you think this has something to do with why I'm back? The reason I was pulled from the pit?"

Sam's breath caught in his throat. For a split second, when Dean looked his way, Sam could see the stark fear in his brother's eyes and it made his blood run cold. He was aware that Dean was still grappling with his return from hell. Sam continued to bare witness to his brother's occasional nightmares and sleepless nights. Seeing a flash of Dean's unmasked vulnerability and feeling his own helplessness were jarring, to say the least.

The brothers and Bobby had searched endlessly for answers to the who, how, and why of the situation. The only thing that made any sense was that a demon had to be involved. Suffice it to say, Dean was not comfortable with the possibility that he was some demon's bitch.

"Look, Dean, right now we don't have enough information. There could be a million different reasons behind what she said. Let's find a place to stay for the night and try to figure this out in the morning." Sam silently willed his brother to drop this for now.

"Okay, Sammy." Dean reached forward to turn the radio on, effectively ending the conversation with the too loud strains of Styx's _Renegade_. Before long, both brothers were lost in their own thoughts and fears.


	2. Chapter 2

The unforgiving sun slashed through the slightly parted curtains in the boys' current motel room. As the morning crept on, the golden light crawled across the floor and eventually alit on the beds' sleeping occupants. Within a few moments of landing on Sam's closed lids, he awoke with a groan and a stretch. Glancing towards the other bed, he saw Dean was still dead to the world, his face buried in his pillow.

Blinking to clear the fog of sleep out of his eyes and mind, Sam made his way to the bathroom with the intent of preparing himself for what he knew was going to be a long day. As he dressed, questions and worries from the night before flooded his mind. They all centered on the demon's and the possessed girl's words. _What could she have possibly meant and how did Dean figure into it? _

It had taken awhile, but Sam had become used to the implications and out right statements about the opposition to his leading the demon army. For some reason, demons loved to chat whenever they had him pinned to a wall. But never once had they shown fear, with the exception of Lilith. Or perhaps _that _was it. He survived Lilith and word spread. Sam sighed, it was all too much to think about this early in the day. Grabbing the keys to the Impala, he silently left the room to get some coffee.

The rumbling of his baby's engine turning over outside the room woke Dean from a sound sleep. Lifting his head from the pillow, he looked for his brother even though he knew he wasn't there. Climbing out of his bed, various joints shifting and popping with the first movements of the day, Dean headed to the bathroom.

After showering and dressing in record time, he powered-up Sam's laptop with the intention of searching for a job while waiting for his brother's return. However, he was having trouble focusing on the task at hand. His mind kept returning to the events of the previous night. One moment, he chalked-up the girl's words as nothing more than the ramblings of a disoriented dying girl. The next, her words played like a broken record, twisting his insides with their possible implications.

Lost in thought, Dean jumped when the door opened to reveal Sam carrying two large coffees. Sam smiled, pleased with himself for catching his brother off guard, which most definitely was something that had happened only a few times in his life. Handing one of the coffees to his brother, Sam asked, "Does your head hurt?"

As his eyebrows shot up in bewilderment, Dean replied, "Uh…no. Why do you ask?"

Trying to keep a straight face, Sam answered, "For me to sneak up on the Great Dean Winchester, you must have been deep in thought. I figured your brain may not be used to the strenuous activity."

"Ha-ha. Bitch." Dean removed the lid of his coffee and took a long drag from the black brew, a look of pure contentment displayed on his face.

Sam laughed, "Jerk." As he sat down at the table across from his brother, he nodded towards the computer, "Find anything?"

Sheepishly glancing down at the laptop, Dean responded, "I didn't really have much time to look."

Noticing his brother's slight discomfort and guessing it's possible cause, Sam changed the subject to one that was very near and dear to Dean. "You want to get something to eat?"

Dean's face lit with a mile wide grin, "God, yes! I'm starving!"

SPNSPNSPN

After a day of not doing much, or actually Sam unsuccessfully looking for a job while he watched really bad daytime television, Dean convinced his brother they should go out for a drink. Leaving Sam to grab a table, Dean went to get the beers.

He sidled up to the end of the mahogany bar that had definitely seen better days and was in desperate need of a deep cleaning and polish. Settling himself on a recently vacated stool, he waited until the burly, behemoth bartender, who in his opinion looked more like a bouncer, served those already awaiting their orders.

"A bit crowded, isn't it?" Dean glanced to his left towards the voice. It was a man in his mid to late 30's, who had a construction worker air about him: well-worn jeans, layered shirts, calloused hands, and sun-wrinkled skin.

Dean grinned affably, "Well, it's the only bar in town."

After taking a sip of his beer, the man chuckled lightly, "That's true." He then turned toward a nearby TV, and became engrossed in a baseball game, effectively ending the small talk before it ever really began.

Taken aback by the abrupt brush-off, Dean had nothing better to do than people watch as he waited to place his order. A few minutes later the bartender finally looked his way and Dean signaled for two beers.

Once again the man next to him spoke, "Did you ever wonder what the price would be?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he glanced to his left, "The price? I'm sorry, I'm not following." The man's blank gaze was now fixed on Dean's face, causing Dean to feel slightly uncomfortable and wishing he had a weapon, any weapon, in his hand right now.

The man's eyes then glazed snow white as he laughed humorlessly low in his throat, "Come on, Dean. Your freedom…your life…they came with a cost."

Suddenly unaware of the bar full of patrons, Dean's heart plummeted in his chest and the air froze in his lungs as he struggled to breathe out, "Who the hell are you?"

A mock expression of woe slithered onto the demon's face. "I pulled you from the pit and you don't remember me? I'm hurt, truly I am. And here I thought you were ready. My mistake."

Sensing the demon was about to leave, Dean instinctually stood and reached out to grasp the demon's upper arm. "Ready for what?" The words were barely past his lips, when an unseen force propelled him backwards a few steps, causing him to land on his ass on the dirty, cigarette butt and beer cap strewn floor.

"Whoa, buddy, I think you've had enough for tonight." A big, beefy, unfamiliar hand was extended into Dean's field of vision.

Dean barely glanced at the newcomer who helped him back onto his feet, his eyes desperately searching for the white-eyed demon, who was now nowhere to be seen. After mumbling a quick thanks, Dean scanned the room for his brother, who he had last seen sitting at a table in the corner, staring intently at the laptop.

Upon hearing a slight commotion near the bar, Sam looked up to see a man helping his brother to his feet. Sam bolted out of his seat and started making his way to Dean. Once he caught his brother's gaze, Sam knew instantly something was wrong. He recognized the flash of fear in Dean's eyes even though it was quickly covered with slight relief, then raw anger.

Reaching his brother's side, Sam queried, "You okay?" Dean stood tense with his hands fisted at his sides, seemingly oblivious to Sam's question as his eyes swept over the crowd of people just out for a good time tonight. Placing his right hand on Dean's left shoulder, Sam again tried to get his attention, "Dean, what happened?"

"We have to go. Now." Dean turned toward the door that led to the parking lot, to the Impala, to safety. He couldn't see the demon anywhere but he could still feel his presence and standing here without any protection or weapons was not the smartest thing to be doing. Although he doubted the demon meant to do them harm. Not if what he said was true. Truth be told, he just wanted out. He needed time and room to think.

After quickly grabbing his laptop and following his brother out to the parking lot, Sam couldn't help but feel confused. Dean was hiding it pretty well, but Sam knew he was scared. It was clear in the way he was holding himself rigid, in the speed with which he was walking to the car. Sam, even with his longer legs, could barely keep up. What he didn't know, was what could have spooked his brother.

Once in the car, Dean wasted no time peeling out of the parking lot. And it wasn't until they were well on their way back to the motel room, that Dean was able to tell Sam what had happened. Surprisingly, Sam remained silent through the few moments it took to get it out. Now, Dean was waiting for the barrage of questions he knew was about to explode from his brother.

"He said…how?…do you think…w-…" Dean glanced at Sam, who apparently had trouble forming a coherent question. And judging by the wide-eyed, slack jawed stare he was now getting from his brother, Dean could tell Sam was as shocked and disturbed as he was.

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and tried again. "So…another white-eyed demon. Claiming to be the one who freed you from hell. What the hell are you supposed to be ready for?" As he spoke, Sam's voice increased in volume as his anger grew. Why the hell did things like this continue to happen to them? Dean was back, he was alive. Although he knew there had to be a catch, never would he have thought another white-eyed demon would be involved. He hadn't even known there _were _more white-eyed demons.

Dean ran his hand over his face as he sighed in frustration. "Sam…", he began, but when he couldn't say more, he shook his head dejectedly, staring straight ahead through the windshield.

In that one word, Sam could hear more than Dean would ever voice aloud. His brother's loss of words underscored his fear, anxiety, anger, and confusion. Sam had to admit, his feelings pretty much mirrored his brother's. "Look, Dean, we'll figure this out. You know we will."

Pulling into the parking lot of the motel, Dean cut the Impala's engine, but made no move to exit the vehicle. "I have to help him kill someone. 'The cost'…'help him kill', that has to be it. This demon is way off his rocker if he thinks I'm gonna kill someone to pay for my trip out of hell. I'd rather go back than be his bitch. It's not worth it."

"Dean, I think it may be a bit premature to connect what the girl said last night to what the demon said tonight. He-"

Dean climbed out of the car, his anger and frustration clear in his voice, "Are you saying you think this is a coincidence? White-Eyes just happens to find me to have a chat the day after I'm told I'm wanted by someone to help commit murder?"

Closing the passenger side door, Sam made his way towards the motel room with the room key already in his hand, "Keep your voice down!" He unlocked the door and entered the room quickly, trying to prevent his brother from calling unwanted attention to himself in the parking lot.

"Like I said before, we'll figure this out. Tell me again everything he said to you." Sam sat himself at the table, pulled out a small pad, and wrote down Dean's retelling as his brother paced the room.

"Sam, I can feel it in my gut, this is all connected somehow." Dean stopped pacing and sat on the edge of his bed facing his brother.

"Okay, first thing we're going to do is call Bobby. Since we met up with Lilith, he's been looking into any and all information about her. We'll see if he's found any other references to white-eyed demons." Sam paused to check his watch and winced, "Being it is rather late, we should probably wait 'til morning. Second, we need to take another look at all the information we have gathered about demons resurrecting humans after their souls have been in hell."

"We left most of that research at Bobby's! So, what? I'm just supposed to call it a night, go to sleep like everything is hunky-dory and I don't have a care in the world?"

"Not much else you _can _do right now."

Dean's frustrated sigh was punctuated by his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I hate it when you're right."

SPNSPNSPN

Thick, oppressive darkness. Intense, unimaginable, all-consuming pain. The stench of sulfuric decay chasing the terror thrumming through his soul. Dean's eyes snapped open on a strangled gasp. _I can't breathe, I can't breathe!_ No rational thought was behind his panicked flight out of bed and across the room to the bathroom. He closed the door roughly and flicked on the bathroom light. As the eye searing light dissipated the shadows, Dean finally came fully awake. He realized he must have been dreaming…or remembering. _Please let it have been a dream, that couldn't have been real!_ Resting his hands on the edge of the cold, hard porcelain sink, he leaned forward and closed his eyes, struggling to slow his too quick respirations and his runaway heart rate.

As the minutes passed, he was unable to reestablish the normal rhythm of breathing. In his anxiety, his large yet seemingly inadequate lungfuls of air were doing nothing more than worsening his problem. As the air rasped between his lips, a slight wheezing could be heard in his chest. Black spots danced on the edges of his vision, alerting him to the fact that if he couldn't gain control of himself fast, he was going to pass out.

He watched his reflection in the mirror above the sink for a few moments, desperately trying to remain grounded in reality, trying to prevent himself from slipping back into his nightmare. With a trembling hand, he turned on the faucet and doused his face in ice cold water. Then cupping the water in his hands, he sucked down mouthfuls hoping that would reset the proper pattern of breathing. At last, he felt the steel bands around his chest begin to release their grip. He took a half step back before he slowly sunk down to sit with his back against the bathroom wall.

He pulled his legs to his chest and allowed his head to rest on his knees, cradled by his arms, as exhaustion took over. His eyelids closed against his will, as his body shuddered, then shut down, in the aftereffects of the adrenaline rush.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long to write. It seems my muse has gone on vacation. Please review and tell me what you think. Is the pace too fast, too slow? Does it need more action, more angst? All comments welcome. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

Sam awakened to a darkened room and an uneasy feeling deep within himself. Bolting upright, he instantly became aware of his brother's empty bed. His panic abated somewhat when he realized the bathroom door was closed. Pushing the covers to one side, he quietly stepped towards the light seeping from under the door.

Once near the bathroom, Sam was a little unsure about what he intended to do. On one hand, he was still on edge with an almost overwhelming urge to check on Dean. On the other hand, if Dean was just relieving himself and caught Sam lurking outside the door, he was pretty sure he would be tormented about the incident for a long time to come. Deciding on a compromise, Sam leaned into the door and listened. After a few moments of absolute silence, Sam's anxiety grew. Without thinking, he found the doorknob and was surprised when it turned easily in his hand. As he inched the door open, he cautiously peered into the bathroom.

"Dean!" In full-blown panic mode, Sam lunged across the small space to reach his brother who was huddled on the floor of the bathroom.

Dean's head flew up and hit the wall behind him at the sound of his brother's frantic cry. Stumbling to his feet while rubbing his freshly bruised head, Dean peered blearily at Sam, trying to shake off the dregs of sleep. "What the hell, Sam?!"

As he cut his forward momentum short, Sam asked startled, "You're okay?"

"Of course I'm okay. Why the hell are you trying to give me a heart attack? I thought you knew better than to barge in on people in the bathroom." Maneuvering around his brother, Dean avoided further eye contact and made his way back to his bed.

"Dean, what were you doing in there? Were you…were you _sleeping _in there?" Sam sat on his own bed, directly across from his brother.

Dean could tell Sam was in one of those moods, the kind that meant he would pester Dean until he had all his questions answered satisfactorily. But what was he supposed to say? _Hey Sammy, it was no big deal. I just completely freaked out over a nightmare._ Yeah, that would go over big. So, instead, he pasted on his patented smirk and decided to do what he did best: dodge and deflect. "It's a bathroom, Sam. What did you think I was doing in there?"

Sam stared incredulously at his brother, "I'm not an idiot, Dean. I saw you on the floor. Are you really going to look me in the eye and pretend nothing's wrong?"

"No, I'm going back to sleep. It's late and we have to leave early for Bobby's." With that said, Dean laid down, pulled his blankets around him, and closed his eyes.

"Dean?…Dean! Just so you know, this discussion's not over." With a huff of frustration at his brother's childish evasion tactics, Sam settled down into bed even though he knew sleep would not be an option for him for the rest of the night.

SPNSPNSPN

As the dawn broke grey through the heavy cloud cover, Dean decided it was time to give up the illusion that he was sleeping. He slipped out of bed, dressed, and left the room making the least amount of noise possible.

Breathing in the moist, cool morning air did little to dispel Dean's fatigue. Noticing the diner down the street was already open, he headed in that direction on foot. Alone with nothing more than the crunch of the gravel under his boots and an occasional passing car, Dean's mind wandered much as it had through the night. Flashes of his nightmare interspersed with scenes from the previous few days.

His mind was beyond the point of being able to make sense out of anything. So instead of thinking himself in circles, he sharpened his focus on the diner ahead, on putting one foot in front of the other, on inhaling and exhaling. By the time he reached the diner, he had managed to push all his thoughts and worries to the furthest corners of his mind.

The bell over the door clanged loudly as Dean entered the mostly deserted diner. A middle-aged couple sat in a booth off to the right and an elderly man sat at the far end of the counter. Spotting a waitress wiping the counter near the register, Dean walked towards her.

"G'mornin', What can I get you?" She shifted her long blonde hair as she pulled a pencil from behind her ear and leaned on the counter, poised to write down his order on a notepad.

"Two coffees to go, please." Dean sat on the nearest stool and rested his elbows on the counter.

"Sure thing. I'll be just a moment." Smiling, she turned towards the coffee pot. Over her shoulder, she continued, "If you don't mind me saying, you sure look like you need the coffee. Rough night?"

Releasing a dry laugh, Dean replied, "I guess you could say that."

Placing the coffees before him, the waitress uttered, "Oh, I certainly hope it didn't have anything to do with me. I think I may have approached you the wrong way."

At her words, every muscle in Dean's body tensed with apprehension. "What?"

"Look, I've never been very good at dealing with…" She glanced around the room then leaned in to whisper, "Well, your kind. I think I may have come off a bit too threatening. My apologies. But we must-"

Cutting her off, Dean growled, "Who the hell are you?"

The waitress shifted her eyes down to the nametag on her shirt, "Right now I'm Wanda. Last night at the bar I was Bill…or maybe it was Bob…but that's not important."

"What. Do. You. Want?"

"That's not something I can get into right now. I would rather wait until you, Sam, and I could discuss this in private. I just wanted to assure you that I meant you no harm last night. Why would I go through all the trouble, and let me stress it was a _lot _of trouble, to bust you from the pit if I was just going to kill you the first time I saw you? Now that would have been just nutty."

Fury flashing in his eyes, Dean snarled, "I swear, if you-"

Steel laced words stopped him cold. "Now, Dean. Don't make a scene. If you draw attention to me, you'll force me to eliminate any and all witnesses. And you wouldn't want that, would you? Sam's probably awake by now. Just be an awesome big brother and bring him his coffee. I'll find you later."

With that, the waitress turned her back on Dean to resume cleaning her work area. Mouth gaping, Dean watched her for a few moments, then not knowing what else he could do, he grabbed the coffees and left.

SPNSPNSPN

The slamming of the motel room door jolted Sam out of a sleep he hadn't been aware of falling into. Peeling his unwilling eyes open, he watched Dean angrily shrugging out of his jacket. The aroma of much needed coffee drifted towards Sam a moment before his brother placed a cup on the nightstand beside him.

Noticing Dean's scowling face, Sam mumbled, "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? _What's wrong!?_" Dean ran his hand through his short hair. "You wanna guess who I just had a chat with? At the diner? The sonofabitch from the bar. Oh, but get this. He's now a she and wants to have a discussion with the both of us. But it's okay, she says she won't hurt us. Yeah, it's not like demons ever lie or anything!"

Sam moved the covers to the side so he could sit up and face his irate brother. "Wait, Dean, slow down. Are you saying the demon from last night was in the diner?"

Dean stared at his brother with unmasked disbelief. "Haven't you been listening!? Yes, yes the demon was at the diner. But your missing the point. He, she, it, _whatever_, wants to talk to us! You and me."

Trying to wrap his sleep-deprived mind around what Dean was saying proved to be too much this early in the day. "Oh."

Dean sat on his own bed, elbows resting on his knees, facing Sam. "So…that's all you have to say?"

"Well…That's unusual." At Dean's frustrated sigh, Sam continued. "You've spoken to this demon two times now. Maybe it's telling the truth, maybe it just wants to talk to us."

Dean dropped his head into his hands. "Sam, drink your coffee. You have to wake up and help me figure this out."

Sam smiled wearily. "You're not thinking clearly yourself. Did you get any sleep? I mean aside from-"

"Sam." Judging by how Dean growled his name, Sam knew to drop the subject faster than a hot potato. Dean's lack of patience and behavior confirmed what Sam already knew: Dean didn't get much sleep, probably even less sleep than Sam.

Knowing that saying nothing at this point in time was probably the safest option, Sam mutely drank his coffee.

After a few moments of silence, Dean stood and made his way over to their duffle bags. While gathering his clothes that were in a pile on the floor, he asked softly, "Do you think I could have made a deal and not even know it…or remember it?"

And there it was, what Dean was worried about most. Sam watched his brother for another minute, choosing his words carefully. "I think it would be best to wait and hear what this demon has to say before we jump to any conclusions."

Dean stopped packing and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes revealing that his walls of protection were once again firmly in place, with Sam on the outside. "We should leave now if we want to make it to Bobby's before tonight."

SPNSPNSPN

"Well, you boys have sure gotten yourselves into it this time." Bobby pulled a drink from his beer before placing the bottle on the table in front of him. Sam and Dean had arrived at his house a little over an hour ago and had filled Bobby in on everything they knew. Which, unfortunately, wasn't much.

It seemed that more and more, they depended on Bobby's guidance, his voice of truth and reasoning. It wasn't that they couldn't figure things out on their own, it was just easier to pick Bobby's brain since he was pretty much an expert on all things demonic. Not to mention, it was comforting to have someone to turn to, someone who could think clearly because he wasn't caught up in the problem himself.

Bobby sighed. "My advice…and I can't believe I'm gonna say this - talk with this demon. If it had wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

Dean and Sam were silent, each lost in his own thoughts until they were distracted by the sound of knocking. All three men traded questioning looks before Bobby rose to answer the door. Both brothers readied themselves a few feet behind Bobby - Dean with a flask of holy water in hand, and Sam with Ruby's knife hidden behind his back.

Exchanging quick nods with the boys, Bobby cautiously opened the door. On the porch stood a man who had to be Bobby's senior by about three decades. He was slightly hunched and appeared to be standing only with the aid of a cane.

Using his usual unfriendly-to-strangers-who-show-up-unannounced tone, Bobby snapped "Can I help you?"

A slow smile spread across the man's face, making Bobby's skin crawl. "You can't, but those two surely can." As the man craned his neck to see around Bobby, his eyes flashed white. "May I come in Mr. Singer? I have some business to attend to with the brothers."

Not reacting with the least bit of surprise, Bobby addressed Sam and Dean without casting so much as a glance in their direction. "Boys?" With that one word, Bobby let them know the ball was in their court, it was up to them to decide if now was the time for this meeting.

As Dean's eyes met Sam's, Dean replied in a tone of resignation, "Let him in."


End file.
